


the winds took my voice

by captainhurricane



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Amputation, Brainwashing, Some mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that if you go to that mountain on a certain night, you can hear an echo of a scream. A man once fell from a train and broke once he hit the ground. This is what happened next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the winds took my voice

**Author's Note:**

> http://youneedtostrut.tumblr.com/post/87364555830/the-procedure-has-already-started inspired by this.

The winds howl in his ears and take away his scream, take away the speeding train and Steve’s horrified face, desperately calling for him to take his hand yet there is only air under Bucky as he falls  
and falls  
  
and falls  
  
 _and then_  
  
  
he doesn’t hear the sickening crunch of his own bones hitting the rocks and the splash of his blood against the snow, the ripping sound on his left side and the pain spiking against the darkness in his mind. Death, only death. Death in this cold and the blinding white. His mind has already closed off into unconsciousness and towards a deeper sleep like protecting him from the initial moment of impact. His body hits the rocks and rolls over them, closer to an icy stream slithering down the crevice. There is nothing for a very long time, nothing but the final spark of a living man, the heart desperately trying to keep itself beating, the lips already going blue and cracked and still trying to move like to form words that have slipped away from him. The remaining fingers twitch and mouth is filled with blood, eyes closed and if opened they would see nothing. Not until-  
  
Bucky drifts in and out of consiousness; sees an unknown face looking down at him,  feels the gentle touch of snowfall. Remembers being dragged, watching the long, wide blood trail left by what’s left of his arm. All the while gasping and shivering, gasping for air and not feeling the tears on his cheeks because the pain, the pain is too much-  
  
 _"Sergeant Barnes-"_  Zola, Bucky thinks and he must be a sight to see because Zola's mouth stretches into a grin Bucky never wants to see again because it's joyful, the man is happy and Bucky is in pain and where is he and where is Steve? Did they defeat-- -- who?.

An awful whine escapes and Bucky squirms but can only gasp and gasp and gasp as the saw is taken to the remains of his left arm and- the whirring of the saw will haunt his fever dreams from now on for it is the sound of his nightmares, the saw is merciless and doesn't care that he's awake and he feels it all, feels the remaining bones snap and break, the tendons rip and warm blood go drip, drip, drip- Bucky doesn’t remember screaming and then losing consiousness and waking up again, again at the same table (waking up in the cold and the snow and gasping because the night sky above him is pitch black and all the sound in the world has vanishes, there's only him and the snow falling and falling) and Zola’s face drifting somewhere near him. At some point his words have gone from kind to stern, to cold and calculating, from good old American English to Russian, since when does he understand Russian anyway? Red stars at the back of his mind. Bucky whimpers.

  
 _"Who are you?"_  it’s a test, they’re- Bucky’s eyes stare unseeing into the bright lights of the room. There’s a new weight on his left side now but he can’t look at it, can’t think that’s it’s his arm and it’s not his arm.  
 _"Sergeant, Sergeant James- J-James-"_  a hand slaps him across his face.  
 _"No! Again!"_  Electric current runs through his body and it takes a while for Bucky to stop spasming, to realize the drool on his lips, tears on his cheeks. 

 _"J-James Buchanan B-Ba rnes, I’m- I’m James- 3255-"_  A hand strokes his cheek.  
 _"Why do you resist? There is nothing for you in this world anymore."_  They do not tell him the war is won, they do not tell him that the rest of the Howling Commandos stayed together and had a drink in the memory of those lost. They do not tell him of a nation in mourning of their lost sons, but this they tell him. The newspapers full of Steve Rogers' face and the words missing in action, a national hero, the war won- (but at what cost?)

  
 _"America’s great poster boy drove a plane into the ocean just a week ago. Did we not tell you? Your friends are gone. Your Captain is gone. We need you for this. Just accept it."_  They shock him, they speak with kindness to him. Sometimes a hand strokes his cheek and a voice whispers apologicies but the apologizies turn into curses once cold metal fingers curl around a soft, soft throat and squeeze. Needles and the cold winter winds, mingling Russian and English and the image of a skull. They scrub away James Buchanan Barnes piece by piece, take away Brooklyn and skinny little Steve and his alleys, they take away growing up and the dream of growing old, take away the dames and Peggy Carter and the Commandos, take away strapped down to a table like this and being saved but this time there is no one coming, the only family to mourn Bucky are scattered because their fights are over, one of them at the bottom of the ocean because his  fight ended before it barely had the chance to start. They take away everything but the cold and blinding white snow, fill up the crevices of Bucky's mind with it, with knives and guns and languages, muzzle him and strap him in their leather and insignia like he was their dog and nothing more. They get more careful as the years start rolling by and the time when Bucky Barnes walked the Earth and laughed slips further and further away;  
  
 _"What is your name?"_  
 _"I have no name."_  
 _"What is your task?"_  
 _"To eliminate."_  
 _"To whom are you loyal to?"_  
 _"The Motherland."_  
  
  


  
Long ago a man fell from a train, from a mountain. He listened to the sickening crunch of his bones against rocks and the winter winds howling in agony for him- for he could not do it himself. He remembers the winter and the cold for he had been cold for decades, he had pressed a metal hand against the confines of his cryo chamber and taken a deep breath and- 


End file.
